


pray that i don't find what i don't wanna find

by Anonymous



Series: acotar, but to the left [3]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Blood and Injury, Magic, Mild Gore, Murder, Not Beta Read, all good components, look i wrote this all without stopping any mistakes are mine, screw you found family is the shit, the major character death is temporary, the throne room but i rewrote it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 09:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29748147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: the throne room, and a reckoning
Relationships: Feyre Archeron & Lucien Vanserra, Feyre Archeron & Tamlin, Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra
Series: acotar, but to the left [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113503
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Anonymous





	pray that i don't find what i don't wanna find

**Author's Note:**

> i bet you thought you'd seen the last of me but no i'm back on my bullshit

My hands shook as my eyes met green ones that watched me from behind a golden mask, deep tan skin marred with bruises as the fae in front of me attempted a reassuring smile.

I looked up at the throne, Amarantha grinning down at me. She waved a hand, and the glamour of Tamlin beside her melted away to reveal the cruel visage of the Attor, wearing a matching smile that exposed far too many jagged teeth.

Not like this. Not- not in front of…

“Something wrong?” Amarantha asked coyly. “He’s right there. Just kill him, and you’re free to rebuild your little family.”

“Not… fair…” I whispered faintly, stumbling back. There had been a clamor, as soon as the hood was pulled off— I glanced to the side, saw Lucien, held back by several other fae with a wild look of fear in his eyes. 

He looked more terrified than the night of the Calanmai.

“What’ll it be, Feyre dearest?” Amarantha stretched her hand with the ring towards the light, studying it as if she were bored. “We don’t have all day.”

My mind raced. The reason I had been taken was a lie, sure, another machination by the craven woman upon the throne. There had to be a reason, though, that Tamlin was _here_ …

Lucien and Tamlin, in the dining room, far too close for what courtesy normally allowed. The door had been open, though, and I walked right by.

_“I might think that stone heart of yours has grown soft, Tam.”_

I had left before I had heard any more of that conversation, eyes widening, but in the gardens, with the Attor, something else came to mind. Stuck in the bush, I had overheard the creature speaking once again.

_“For a heart of stone, you certainly harbor a host of fear within it.”_

They had allowed me to overhear for some reason, making sure I had been close by.

Amarantha wouldn’t risk killing one of her greatest bargaining chips. She held too much of a grudge, and she seemed the vindictive type. She would only offer him up as the sacrifice if he couldn’t be killed by the very blade that still shone dully on the velvet pillow.

I took a step forward, studying Tamlin’s face. He was looking at Lucien, an apology written into his gaze as the scarlet-haired fae struggled against the others holding him back. Tamlin looked back at me as my shoes hit the marble, expression once more settling into a defiant mask. How ironic, that he hides behind yet another while the gold sits still on his face.

He seemed to read the realization on my face, for he lifted his chin and nodded, ever so slightly. I strode forwards, took a breath. There was always the chance I could be wrong. This could all be a mistake. It could end with his lifeless body on the floor, nothing gained and everything lost. But there was no mistaking the twitch to Tamlin’s lips as I grabbed the dagger of polished, pale wood.

It was cold in my fingers, and I wrapped them tightly around the hilt. The fae I viewed as family kneeled before his executioner, looking death in the eye with the defiance of a god.

“You and Lucien are incredibly special to me,” I said, raising the dagger. “I love you.”

And then I stabbed him.

Tamlin let out a strangled gasp as the dagger plunged into his chest, hands immediately reaching up to grab at the wound that blood was already gushing out of. For a moment, it felt as if the dagger would go all the way through, but then it struck something within his chest. I pulled the dagger out quickly, watching as blood trickled away from the nicked blade and stained my hands.

I could hear the disbelieving murmurs from the fae behind me, the dagger dropping out of my hands and onto the floor with a loud clatter that seemed far too noisy for the room. Tamlin wheezed as he clutched his chest in pain, nearly collapsing. The hole in his chest was healing.

But far too slowly.

Amarantha stood and I took a step back, paling at the murderous look on her face. _Kill her now_ . _Kill her now kill her now kill her now—_ But no one was in the state to do so. Certainly not the bastard that was grinning at the foot of the dais, who seemed to elated to realize something was wrong.

The golden mask on Tamlin’s face didn’t fall off, however, and I watched as, finally, a red blur launched himself over to Tamlin’s side, grabbing at his shoulders and leaning him back. The fox mask on Lucien’s face stayed firmly in place as well. The curse hadn’t been broken. 

“Let them go. She won,” someone called from the very still crowd.

“She didn’t specify _when_ I had to free them,” Amarantha snarled, descending the steps of the dais. “I’ll free them when I see _fit_. The rules of the riddle never applied to the trials. Would anyone like to prove me wrong?” By this point, her face had become a twisted serpentine monstrosity as she raked her eyes across the crowd. No one came forward; the only indication they had heard was uncomfortable murmuring. 

“And you,” Amarantha purred, turning back to me. I took another step back, every instinct yelling at me to run. “I will enjoy your death.”

I turned, but before I could take a step, white-hot agony raced through my body and I collapsed to the floor. I vaguely registered a scream that sounded like it came from me, and then more agony as I was picked up and flung like a child’s toy.

I think I heard Lucien shout before Amarantha prowled back into view, digging her claws into my collar and picking me up. “Say you don’t love him,” she snarled. “That you’re a liar, like the rest of you snivelling humans.”

Faintly, I wondered why she cared so much. Clearly, something had flown over my head somewhere and…

Oh.

Well, that made sense, now that I think about it. If I could just open my mouth to say it…

“Feyre!” Rhysand. What did he care? He was interrupting my train of thought. It was like carrying the sky, struggling to get back to the thought I was interrupted from whilst ignoring the pain that wracked my body. 

_“Let her go!”_ I think that was Tamlin. He sounded hoarse, but my thoughts were ripped away again as Amarantha dug her claws in, causing a fresh wave of agony to ripple across my body. I struggled to stay conscious as she continued to tear into me, snarling in an almost feral manner.

“You _worm_ ! Filthy _pig_ , like the rest of your kind. How dare you think yourself worthy! You’re _nothing_.”

A pause, and she dropped me again. I groaned from the floor, the cold marble providing a brief respite as Amarantha flung her hand out, catching someone by the wrist. I squinted, and could make out the shape of Rhysand, ash dagger in his hand. Hm. Not a terrible plan. I coughed as I watched her fling him into the floor, stone cracking from the impact and shattering. 

Distantly, I saw Lucien slamming his hands against what looked like air. Hm. Interesting. That would explain a lot. He stumbled, shock crossing his face as he slipped through the barrier, turning back to Tamlin, who was struggling to rise, and reaching out a hand. 

Rhysand got to his knees, wiping the blood from his nose with a sneer. Amarantha turned her nose at him and walked back to me, digging a heel into one of my hands as soon as she got close. My throat was too raw to scream, and instead I whimpered as she removed her foot and crouched down, taking my face into one clawed hand. 

“Say that you don’t love him,” she hissed, blood welling underneath the pinpricks of her nails. I was fading, my vision doubling between the room and past memories. The first thing I killed, a rabbit. Amarantha, crowding my vision and splattered with blood. The way the life bled out of the rabbit, my knife in its throat. I was tossed to the side again. Weeping, in the cold woods, after my family had feasted. I think I could see Tamlin now, struggling towards us, half supported by Lucien. 

What was the riddle again? Something about killing slowly. Amarantha, adamant on getting me to denounce what I said, which wouldn’t make sense if she was only seeking to claim Tamlin for herself. I didn’t love him in that way.

Right. The conclusion I had drawn earlier, but nearly forgot.

“Amarantha, please,” Tamlin called out. “I’m sorry about Clythia all those years ago. I’ll do whatever you want. Just _stop and let her go_.” He dissolved into coughs, leaning into Lucien, whose face was grave and eyes narrowed as his grip on Tamlin tightened. 

“ _Shut it._ I’ll deal with you later,” she snapped. 

“You know,” I wheezed. “Nearly forgot.” I took a rattling breath as I looked at the two who had become family, who I had shared so many small moments with. Teaming up with Lucien to shove Tamlin into a river. Running from him and laughing as he dripped water everywhere. Dozing off with the both of them in the library while they were assisting in teaching me how to read, then waking up to them practically stuck to each other in their sleep. Snickering with Tamlin about how Lucien looked like a glorified bush when he woke up. Pranking the both of them by managing to balance a bucket of water over a door (with Alis’ help, not that they knew). I gave them a smile through the burning that snared itself into my body like hooks.

“The answer to your _fucking_ riddle,” I started. “Is _love_ , bitch.”

The last thing I heard was Amarantha’s furious scream before something in my neck snapped.

Lucien’s breath caught as he reached up with his hand that wasn’t supporting Tamlin, finding the edges of the elegant fox mask. With a choked sob, he pulled it off, revealing the rest of his face, brown skin covered in silvery scars, yet still handsome as he dropped the mask, metal clanging on the floor.

Tamlin quietly stood to his full height, the gaping wound in his chest closing in an instant. He turned to the man beside him and gave him a soft smile, reaching up to cradle his face for a brief moment before turning towards Amarantha, lip curling as a growl ripped from his throat.

“W-wait,” she stammered, taking a step back.

Without warning, golden light slammed outwards, Tamlin as the nexus, brushing past everyone except Amarantha, who was slammed into the wall. With a roar, he transformed into his lion-wolf, crowned with branching horns, and launched himself after her.

The members of her entourage attempted to swarm in, but, with a flourish, Lucien conjured a wall of flame, smirking as the other members of the court cheered, throwing their masks off and surging forwards to meet their enemies. His mess of curls fell into his eyes as his smirk stretched into a grin, turning the fire into a flaming orb that he launched straight into the middle of the throng, scattering them with a few screams.

Tamlin, eyes glowing pure, furious gold, landed on Amarantha, sinking deadly claws into her shoulders as she screamed. She attempted to lash back, clawing at his arm and flinging dark magic, but he shook it off like water, fangs spreading into a mockery of a smile.

“Tam!” Lucien called out, flinging a sword across the room like a silver dart. A hand shot out and grabbed it, the High Lord no longer beast as he leaned close, raising the weapon as he looked Amarantha in the eyes.

“P-please,” she laughed nervously, watching the sword gleam like forged starlight. She spoke no more as Tamlin thrust the sword downwards, spearing her through the skull and into the floor. As a last measure, he fluidly turned into the beast once more, ripping her throat out before spitting it out, eyes returning to green as he turned and ran back to the broken body on the floor. Halfway, he turned back with a shimmer of golden light, landing on his knees.

Lucien was kneeling on Feyre’s other side, her head pulled into his lap as he brushed her hair to the side, sword abandoned on the floor. He looked up at Tamlin, tears welling in his right eye, and shook his head. She was far beyond saving, even for them.

Tamlin gently touched her face, breaking into a sob as he pulled some of Feyre’s weight into his lap as well. Broken, mangled beyond repair, but still his little sister in all but blood. The crowd of fae broke out into whispers and mutterings once again, some sniffles being heard throughout. 

A presence walked up, and Lucien froze as his father approached. Neither said anything, but the High Lord of the Autumn Court opened his hand and let a glimmering drop of what seemed like liquid diamond fall onto Feyre’s chest, which disappeared with a flare of light. The scarlet-haired fae didn’t relax until the older walked away without a word.

In turn, the other lords approached; summer, winter, dawn, day. Each dropped a shining droplet, though the last looked strangely at Lucien before backing away. Lastly, Rhysand approached, a smirk upon his face. The two high fae glared at him, but he only dropped another twinkling fragment.

“Consider our debt repaid,” he said, watching it fall, then flaring up in another flash of light. “She was brave.” He turned his back and walked away, fae parting from where he walked.

Lucien and Tamlin’s eyes met, and the former nodded, expression grim. Tamlin took a breath and held out his hand, glowing a bright gold as one last glittering bud formed in his palm. 

“Come back to us,” he murmured, bowing his head and placing his hand on Feyre’s heart.

Coming back to life was not a pleasant experience. 

I gasped for air, hands instantly reaching up to grasp at my neck, chest rising and falling rapidly in a panic. When had the chandelier become so detailed? _Why_ had the chandelier become so detailed? Why could I hear the gasps of a crowd?

Crowd. Throne room. 

I _murdered_ two fae.

My breaths came even more rapidly, eyes widening in panic. I could still feel the sensation of their blood beneath my fingers, the way they slumped as the life left their bodies. Without noticing, my hands tightened.

Two pairs of hands gently pried my hands away from my neck, and that’s when I noticed I wasn’t lying on the floor anymore. Rather, two familiar heads leaned into view, one’s red hair tickling my forehead.

Lucien, without the fox mask hiding his face, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes and showing off a dimple in his right cheek. Were those tears in his eye?

Tamlin, green eyes watery, blond hair framing his side as it fell over his shoulder as he gave me a weak smile.

I shot up, narrowly missing nailing both of them in the forehead, staring at my hands. Hands that I had nearly strangled myself with moments earlier. Hands that seemed to glow with an odd light, that felt longer than I was used to.

“What the _fuck_ ,” I breathed, staring forwards, unable to look at my hands any longer. Amarantha’s body met my gaze, gory and stabbed through. She was dead. Amarantha was dead, and I had killed—

“It was the only way we could save you.” Tamlin’s tone was soft behind me, but I didn’t hear him move. 

Whatever the hell they had done turned me into a high fae.

Hesitantly, Lucien’s hand found my shoulder, and he turned me away from the body. I turned back towards them both, feeling tears begin to slide down my face. They were free.

“Welcome back, Feyre,” Lucien said, giving me a teary smile of his own. 

“Welcome _home_ ,” Tamlin tacked on, elbowing the redhead with a smile.

He raised an eyebrow and waved a hand at the wreckage of the throne room, to which the blond rolled his eyes. I let out a snort and lunged forwards, crushing them in a hug as I laughed through the tears.

“I’m home.”

**Author's Note:**

> anyways found family rules


End file.
